"No," the word leaves my lips again, so sharply that it almost ends up as a growl on my lips. I force myself to take an occasional breath, slower for the way I refuse to let it shake. If there is anything I cannot afford at this very juncture, it's to let myself start sliding. Hesitation, doubt, if any of these etch themselves on my expression or in my voice, they'll only plant further seeds in Jason's own mind, the one that's somehow managed to circle and land on the conclusion that I bear any amount of hatred for him. And that is a thing that I cannot fathom. Never for a minute have I doubted that my parents wanted the best for me. From where they sit, they might be disappointed. They might disapprove. But I won't sully their memory by entertaining the thought that I have done anything to make them hate me.

The two of them were better people than most will ever come to know. And that I fall short of the legacy is a fact that never escapes me for even a second.

"Jason, I don't hate you. I failed you. The only person I have to blame for that is myself."

My chest hurts. I...